The Call
by emeraldislegirl
Summary: AU: This story is the prequel to The Letter. In this story, Rick is married and living with his family in Alexandria, VA when he receives a call that changes his life. Note: (Rick, RJ, and Michonne) I don't own the TWD characters.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Call**_

**A/N: This is the prequel to _The letter._**

_Chapter 1_

Carly and I have been married for five years. We have three kids, six-year-old twins, Cassie and Cyndie, and four-year-old Carl. Like any marriage, my wife complains about the long hours I work, and my absences. I reminded her that those long hours provided a lifestyle to which she has grown accustomed.

Carly's an artist, so we built her studio at the back of the property on the banks of the Potomac River in Old Town, Alexandria, but she was yet to sell anything other than a few commissioned portraits of pets. It worked out well for us because this setup allowed her to work from home where my job took me all over the country. I love my job; the only regret is that it takes a toll on my family time. Whenever I am fortunate enough to be at home, I try to make the best of the time we have together.

'Rick, it's for you,' Carly called out from the kitchen as I walked up the deck and offered her an ice cream cone. In exchange, she passed me the phone with a furrowed brow.

I felt judged by Carly's accusatory look. I don't know why it just felt as though I should be on the defensive. Although I can honestly say, I've done nothing to warrant the look in her eyes.

I took the phone from her and identified myself as Rick Grimes. I was puzzled as I did not recognize the caller's voice. He identified himself as Ezekiel King, an attorney from Toronto, Canada. I didn't understand why a Canadian lawyer would be contacting me and I told him as much then turned away from Carly's questioning eyes and left the room so that we may speak in private.

I had never been to Canada; the man might have had me mixed up with someone else. He was confident he had not. His voice was commanding, yet, he was understanding of my shock. There was no shaking this man, he was like a dog with a bone; then he asked the damning question. 'Do you recall a Michonne Charpentier?' It was as if the air was sucked from my lungs. How the hell could she still have this effect on me even after all this time? He kept talking. 'There's a child involved…' he droned on in that business tone my father took whenever there was a job to be done. Michonne had passed. There would be a reading of her will and my presence was required. The line went silent.

I was certain he was wrong. He had to be. I was sure that Mr. King could hear the cogs turning over in my brain, as I calculated whether or not what he implied was at all possible. Despite the air-conditioned room, perspiration beaded on my forehead as though I was sitting in a sauna.

It couldn't be true. It also could be. How? What happened? Why didn't she…? The questions tumbling in my brain were endless.

Michonne was only a month or two younger than me. What the hell happened? We had a child together, but she chose not to tell me. I thought she knew me better than that… obviously, I was wrong.

Mr. King's voice rang out in my ear, wondering if I was still there. I confirmed I was, thanked him, and ended the call.

I paced around the room for what seemed like a lifetime, thinking about what my next steps should be. I had to tell my pregnant wife that I have another child, who I didn't know existed, or at the very least, it was a possibility. I also needed time off work. I decided to start with the easier task first. I phoned my boss and explained that I needed some time off for urgent family matters. The call was about five minutes, he wished me the best.

'Richard?' Carly called from outside the door, the frustration in her voice was evident as if she had been calling me for some time. I looked at my watch and realized it had been a couple of hours since I locked myself in my office. She had no doubt been running through a few possibilities like, what the hell was going on with me? Why had I locked myself in my office? What was the telephone call about? What's wrong? 'Richard, you are scaring me.'

Carly knocked on the door and called out again. A few minutes later, I opened the door. She took in my presence and asked, "Richard, is everything okay?" Carolyn Grimes's intuition was always quite keen. This time was no different.

'Carly, the kids?' I asked trying to determine how much time we had before they would interrupt this discussion. 'They are in the backyard with your parents,' letting me know she intended to get to the bottom of the mysterious call.

She wanted to know who Mr. King was. Her tone was snappish, and her use of my Christian name was never a good sign. I wanted my wife to remain as calm as possible because I didn't want her going into early labour. I knew it was a tall order considering the effect the news had on me, so I agreed to tell her everything as long as she would try to remain calm. Her frustration was obvious. Her creamy complexion was now blotchy with bright pink patches.

'When we first met, do you remember I told you about the girl I was seeing?'

'The swimsuit model? How can I forget her?' She responded rather snippily, rubbing her huge belly to calm herself, which had the opposite effect because it frustrated her even more.

I knew how she felt about Michonne, but she really had no reason to feel so insecure. I married her. We had a beautiful home together, three kids, with a fourth on the way, and I loved her.

I explained that Mr. King represents Michonne. She wanted to know why? That was just for starters. It was quickly followed by more questions, like, what did Michonne want? And the clincher, a question so difficult, she struggled to voice the words; had I cheated on her while I was in New York about ten months earlier? I promised her that nothing had happened I tried to reassure her and explained that eight years ago, Michonne had a baby and it's possibly mine. I also explained that Michonne recently passed away; the reading of her will was in three days and as I'm named in it, my presence was expected.

She argued if the child was mine, Michonne would have contacted me long before now.

'Not necessarily,' I countered. I was walking a very slippery slope. I knew where it was heading. I had to explain that, I had looked her up online, which didn't win me any husband of the year awards.

'I see,' she answered. Carly's tone tried to be indifferent, her body language said otherwise letting me know it was never okay for me to be looking up my ex-girlfriend.

God knows I was trying to make things easier, but the harder I tried it seems I dug the hole a little deeper. 'So, what did you find out?'

'Seems she's had a pretty successful career as a television personality in Toronto.' I swear the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees when my wife acknowledged that this would have been a good fit for Michonne. She wanted to see a photo of the child? I told her there was none but the obituary says she was survived by her son, whose name I didn't mention for obvious reasons. She raised her brow at this and strongly suggested there be a DNA test before I start claiming the child. 'Of course,' I agreed rather concerned about her reaction because there was a real possibility the child could be mine. 'Carly, I need to know that you are going to be okay with this.' She then asked me whether she had a choice. Her question stumped me. In such a context, I guess she did not. And I'm pretty sure this was the reason why Michonne never contacted me. It was simple for me, I gained a child, but on either side of my son was a woman who would be hurt in one way or another. I never stopped to think of how this revelation could upset the proverbial applecart.

'Jesus Christ, Carly, the woman just died, have some respect. What if your roles were reversed? If the child is mine, he will come here and grow up with his brother and sisters… You can't expect me to turn my back on him.'

'I wouldn't expect you to,' she added as she pushed her way off the chair, stood up and opened the door, 'I'm so sorry for **your** loss.' She added emphasizing the your as she waddled out of the room slamming the door in her wake.

**In order to bring stories to the Richonne fandom, we writers also need your written support, so please don't forget to leave a review in the box below. Much appreciated thanks. #KeepRichonneAlive**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Call**

_Chapter 2_

It had been years since I thought about Michonne; the whole situation was like New York all over again.

_That night I walked through the front door to find my pregnant girlfriend sitting on the sofa with tears in her eyes. There was a shoebox on the coffee table in front of her with its contents laid out on the glass tabletop. The plaintiff's exhibits were on full display; amongst them was the ring that was intended for Michonne's return home, an autographed copy of her first magazine cover, and some love letters she wrote to me._

_Carly was clearly hurt by this discovery and I felt like shit for being the source of her pain. During the argument, she admitted that she felt I was holding onto some kind of hope that Michonne would eventually return even though we were about to start a family together. She argued that most men would have gotten rid of the ring and the other trinkets a long time ago._

_I don't know whether I was or not, I just know I never wanted to be hurt again the way Michonne hurt me. I didn't even remember the shoebox. She found it in a box of stuff and thangs from my old place when she began decluttering the room we intended to turn into the nursery, something she asked me to start a few weeks earlier. I hadn't started because it wasn't clear that I would be based in New York. Plus, we had months ahead of us before we needed a nursery._

_I felt like shit for a very long time after that because asking her to marry me right after our argument didn't feel authentic. We never spoke of that night again. The next day, however, I bought her a ring. Six months after that fight, we were living in Alexandria, Virginia and the twins were a few weeks old; when I popped the question._

**…**

Mr. King was a man of his word. I was expecting to be picked up by a chauffeur, but no, the man himself met me at the arrivals. He held a sign with my name on it. He was a short bespectacled bald Afro-Canadian gentleman, much shorter than me; he was older too, probably late fifties with hunched shoulders. I walked towards him, we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Shortly after that, he reached into his breast pocket pulled out a lilac coloured envelope and gave it to me. He explained Michonne had given it to him for safekeeping. He was under strict instructions to find me immediately in the event something was to happen to her. When asked whether she was sick, he had no knowledge.

On the drive to the hotel, he explained that Michonne died suddenly. She had had a history of migraines, which I knew. She apparently collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital where she later died as a result of a ruptured brain aneurysm. There wasn't much left to say, so we remained silent for the remainder of the trip.

An hour after checking into my room, I was once more staring at another envelope addressed to me from Michonne. Her penmanship was elaborate as always, every stroke so precise. This one, however, was much thicker which meant she had a lot more to say. I already knew the highlights and the end result, but I couldn't summon the courage to pick it up. Perhaps Carly was right after all, maybe some part of me didn't want to acknowledge it. I couldn't believe Michonne was gone, but at the same time, opening that letter would make it all so very real because she was dead and we had a child together; my world has changed.

Forty-eight hours after receiving the news which brought a piece of my past to light, I was angry for allowing Michonne to dictate the rules, angry that I gave her the space she requested to be with her family because the whole damn time she was pregnant and she hid it from me. The entire situation opened up an old wound that I thought had healed. I found myself thinking that I should have been there with her… for her. I get that it wasn't the time to meet the family, but she needed me. Then I felt like shit for making it about all about me … because our son had lost his mother. I was tired and hungry but I couldn't eat, so I ordered a bottle of scotch from room service. Half an hour later, a double scotch neat emboldened me to pick up the infernal envelope. The second drink, found me removing the folded lilac sheets from it. By the third drink, I sat back in the armchair, unfold the missive and read Michonne's final words to me.

The letter had been written four years earlier, at which point, our son, RJ as she called him had asked when his father would be coming home. Michonne had been in Virginia with my son when he was two years old, but after seeing me with Carly and the twins, she decided against my right to know. I was a bloody mess after reading the letter. Tears stained the delicate sheets of paper in my hands causing the ink to run in places erasing her words, so I set them aside and poured myself a much stronger drink. This time, I allowed myself to feel the pain... to grieve what we once had together and let go of the feelings I buried the first time around. I allowed myself to grieve that my son would grow up without his mother and promised myself he'd that he would always feel loved.

**...**

It was obvious to me when I walked into the room, not everyone was pleased to see me. I was a wildcard in this drama, yet, I wasn't. If the letter was right, they knew exactly who I was to Michonne. And despite it all, some looks said I shouldn't be there, now. Too little too late.

There was a couple in the corner, the woman appeared visibly upset, but when her eyes met mine, they were ice cold.

Everyone except Mrs. Charpentier who was an older version of Michonne and Mr. King stared at me no doubt wondering where the hell I've been for the past nine years. Mrs. Charpentier looked tired, but her eyes were kind and she gave me a small smile, to which I responded to with a slight nod of the head. Mr. King looked up and acknowledged my tardy entrance and kept on reading.

The part of the will which dealt with RJ specifically stated that every attempt must be made to reach his biological father, Richard Grimes Sr., and if it wasn't immediately possible to do so, he would be left in the care of his Godparents, Karen and Tyreese Williams until I could be located. The rest of the estate apart from what was bequeathed to charity, some small gifts to her former employees, and a trust set up for her mother's care, everything was left in trust for RJ, an eight-year-old child; I was now his legal guardian.

Suddenly, the glacial stare from earlier became crystal clear. The woman was Michonne's friend, Karen. Although we have never met, we knew of one another. Karen, had expected to take custody of RJ. After all was said and done, the Williams' received some pieces of artwork and jewelry and they disappeared right after the reading of the will.

I sat there completely stunned by what just happened, I had expected custody of my son, but certainly not this. After the room cleared out, Mr. King came over to me. We shook hands as he spoke. He thanked me for coming and informed me that Mrs. Charpentier had gone off to find my son. I was nervous as hell, so I poured myself a glass of water. After taking a sip, the door opened and Mrs. Charpentier walked in holding the hand of a shy little boy. I stepped forward to meet them. Despite her grief, she was fiercely proud of her grandson and it showed.

'Ma'am, I'm so sorry for your loss. If there's ever anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.'

'Richard, it's so good of you to have come,' she expressed with a stiff reserve, one expected of royalty but her voice cracked betraying her emotions. 'I know you must be eager to meet the little man himself,' she added pushing the young boy forward between us.

I squatted down to meet the young boy who kept his head down searching the floor for whatever he found interesting down there.

'Hi there!'

'Hi,' he replied without lifting his head.

'I hear that we share the same name. I'm Rick, so what shall I call you?'

'RJ, because it's what my mommy called me. It was her favourite,' he answered, but his eyes remained glued to the floor.

'I'm really sorry about your mommy, RJ.' I offered not knowing what else to say.

'Me too, but Nana says she's with Gramps and the angels, so she's not alone.'

'Yeah. That's right.' Just then, RJ raised his head and what I saw was a mini version of me. His skin was light brown and he had a mop of loose unruly brown curls. His sad blue eyes broke my heart. It took a good minute for my breathing to recover. Michonne wasn't wrong, when our son looked into my eyes there was no judgement. If anything, despite his sadness, there was relief. I was about to ask whether I could hug him when suddenly his little arms found themselves around my neck.

'Mommy said you would come,' he added in a broken voice. His words broke me and the tears crashed through the dam. I honestly didn't know who was consoling whom, so we held onto one another for some time and cried.

That night, I spoke with Carly. 'Hey, how did it go?' She asked her voice held a bit of uncertainty; it was understandable considering the circumstances. It had been a very emotional day. Just hearing her voice felt like the weight of the sad day had lifted. She was on a break from our brood who were with my parents. I felt better knowing she wasn't shouldering all of the responsibilities alone. Suddenly, I heard the intake of breath as she gasped, 'Oh my God, … he… he's you, at the end of the summer when you were his age.' She explained referring to the photo Marianne snapped of RJ and me earlier that day by the pool.

I chuckled. She wanted to know if I told RJ about our family. The word family did it for me and the waterworks began again.

RJ and I grew closer over the next few days. On the third night, a storm rolled in the middle of the night. I was awakened when he crawled into bed with me.

'Daddy? Can I stay with you?' RJ asked nervously. He had been calling me dad since day one, and each time I heard it my heart tightened a little. I knew I wasn't to blame for my absence from his life and was grateful to be present now, so I turned on the lamp to check that my son was okay.

'Sure, son,' like his mother, my son didn't like storms, so she allowed him to sleep with her whenever it stormed. 'Would you like me to get you some milk to help you sleep?' He shook his head no. However, I could tell there was something more than just the flashes of lightning, the loud claps of thunder, and the howling winds rattling the windows which bothered him. So, I asked him whether he was okay.

'Dad, what if they don't like me? Do I come back home with Nana?'

I tried to ease my son's worries assuring him that his brother and sisters will love him and they were excited to meet him, but my son's continued unease was evident when he stated the obvious, 'They don't look like me, Dad,' he stated referring to his siblings who were not mixed raced. Although his statement was relevant, it was not a subject I anticipated, this soon.

'No, they do not… that's because you have different mommies, but you have the same father; you are a mixture of your mommy and me… that's why your skin is darker than mine but lighter than your mommy and nana's.'

'And, Carolyn? Do I have to call her mommy?' he asked with tears in his eyes. Finally, there the crux of the matter, the conversation we had the day before, about him relocating and being adopted by Carly was causing my son distress, so I pulled him closer and held him there.

'No one will ever replace your mommy, RJ; the paperwork will make Carly your legal guardian. It means if I'm ever away, she'll be able to make decisions for you, the same as she would for your brother and sisters. Carly will love you just like the others… you'll see. It will take a little while for her to learn what you like and don't like… me too and your grandparents as well, you'll have to teach us.'

It was settled, RJ decided that he would call my wife Aunt Carly, then he snuggled closer and gave me a hug.

**…**

After the paternity test, his name was changed. He was now officially Richard James Charpentier-Grimes which I thought was the best way to keep a piece of his mother alive.

During the third week, Carly went into labour three weeks early. The call came in the middle of the night. That morning, Marianne was left to deal with the falling out of me having to leave on the first flight out because RJ was still asleep when I left.

Later that morning, I arrived at the hospital to find Carly and the latest addition to the Grimes clan, in the form of a beautiful baby girl with my mother watching over them.

'How are you both doing?' I asked kissing her forehead, as she nursed our daughter.

'Look, Charlie, daddy's home.' Carly was sure it would be a girl, me not so much. In the end, we were both surprised by the fourth and the fifth child, because we got one of each.

'Mom, thanks for being here.'

'But of course, dear. Where else would I be? Dad has things under control at home, so I'm here,' she added lightly stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. 'Congratulations on the new additions to the family.'

**...**

Two weeks later, once we cleared customs, we were met by the Grimes welcome wagon at the arrivals pick up with call signs and balloons for RJ, Marianne, and Rick.

That afternoon, the Grimes's held a very late fourth of July picnic in our spacious backyard. But the most notable thing about that day was not the food itself, it was RJ's seamless transition into our new blended family. The twins chased him around the yard and little Carl became his shadow. It was as if they had grown up together the whole time.

I imagined in another few years once Charlie entered the mix no one would even remember it was ever any different.

**THE END!**

**In order to bring stories to the Richonne fandom, we writers also need your written support, so please don't forget to leave a review in the box below. Much appreciated thanks. #KeepRichonneAlive**


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